The 10 Hardest Things About Grief

It has been three days since the love of my life died. They have been entirely surreal. I think I’m still in shock. I have just been going through the motions. I went to work today. I probably shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t sit at home anymore.

This is a list of things no one tells you about the death of someone you love most in the world. These are things no one is prepared for.

People go about their business.

It seems like the whole universe should stop in its tracks, but it doesn’t. Not even my world. My dog still needs to poop even if I am a crying mess. The only time I left the house Monday and Tuesday was to take my dog to the dog park.

The weather should match your mood. It should be black and stormy outside, but it’s not. It’s sunny. Sunshine is cruel.

Grief comes in waves.

You can be entirely fine for an hour or so, and then it hits you again and tears come involuntarily streaming down your face. You’re not even crying, but there are tears rolling down your face.

The stages of grief aren’t very orderly.

You hear about the stages of grief. It starts with denial, then moves on to anger and so on, but it doesn’t work that way. I have experienced all of the stages of grief willy-nilly in only a matter of minutes. Then, it starts all over again.

You want to scream at everyone.

Even his closest friends, because they’re grieving in a different way than you are. His mom is posting on his Facebook account. I had to shut Facebook down because seeing “Male updated his status” and having everyone tag me in pictures and posts was something I just couldn’t handle. I asked my best friend to let me know if there’s anything on there I should know about.

The morning after I found out he died, I took my dog out and I passed a man who said, “Good morning. Nice day, isn’t it?” and I wanted to shout at him that it would never be a nice day ever again.

You think of the dumbest things.

You think of stupid insignificant memories and you try to remember exactly what you said the last time you saw him or talked to him. You think about what he would be thinking about and what he would want you to think about and all this thinking never, ever stops. Not even at 4 am, which is the worst time for thinking. I will never sleep again.

You look around and wonder who else knows.

At work, more people seemed to know the situation than I was aware of. I told three people at work, meanwhile at least half a dozen have come up to me with condolences.

You wonder who else knows, not only about your situation in particular, but about what you’re going through. How many people who you pass know what this feels like?

Grief comes with actual physical pain.

It even has a name: hole in the heart. A woman at work whose teenage daughter died years ago told me that. There is a physical pain in my chest like my heart is being sucked through a tiny hole. Grief physically hurts and you can see it on my face.

No one knows what to say.

Not even me. If I had a dollar for every time someone has said, “I don’t know what to say,” I’d have a lot of dollars. I usually just say, “I don’t know what to say either.”

Telling people is hard.

Most people I know already knew through Facebook, phone calls, etc. But, I had to tell the people who know me, but not him so much. I was happy after I went to the dog park and told the last of the people I had to tell. Telling people makes it real and real isn’t good. Real is the exact opposite of good.

Everything reminds you of the person you lost.

Even things that shouldn’t remind me of him, remind me of him. I can’t really listen to music since I’m having to skip every third song. I had to stop fast in my car and an old phone case of his slid out from under the seat and it set me off. Everything I do, say, hear, watch, or see reminds me of him.

40Comments

((hugs)) Everyone grieves differently Fishy. Never ever feel like you should be grieving in a certain way. You do it YOUR way, in YOUR time. None of us know what to say, because we don’t want to sound trite. So some of them say nothing. Me, I always have something to say, you know that by now. I have lost someone I loved dearly, two someones. My dad and the love of my life. I still grieve but in a different low key way. I grieve in my heart and in my soul. No tears my fall down my face, they are inside though.

You have suddenly lost the love of your life. I have no words to help you, but this…..live on for him Fishy. Live on for yourself. All your memories whether small or large are worth keeping. Think of the fun times, the silly times, the serious times and know that no one will ever be able to take those memories away. Male lives on in your heart. He will never leave you entirely. Keep that thought with you.

Everything you wrote above and more is so true. I know exactly how you feel, I know what you’re going through, I know the immense pain that you’re feeling. I know that hopelessness that is trying to devour your soul and I’ve been in the same deep, dark pit you find yourself in right now. This hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt in your life and you feel like you can’t escape it.

Right now it feels like your life will never be the same again, and you know what? It won’t. But it will get better. It’s gonna take time, a lot of ears to listen and shoulders to cry on and it may seem like an eternity, but it will get better, I promise.

If you would like someone to talk to that has lived this, I would be more than happy to lend an ear, or an eye as the case may be. If you want to, you can contact me at thehillbillyblogger@gmail.com

Regardless of whether you do or don’t, just know that you are in my thoughts and prayers during and after this most difficult of times.

The fact that you have the strength to write is a good sign, if nothing else, and I think you’ll find that it’s very useful as a pressure release valve for the tough times ahead.
Grief can also be used to keep assholes at a distance; a friend of mine whose fiancee passed away found it very useful for warding off scumbags who tried to flirt with her.

All true points, the other is a long term effect that is any time someone in your vicinity faces a loss you relive yours. This goes on for years. But, you can do this FoG, its going to suck for some time but you can do it.

This is why I hate the internet. Because I can’t bring you a pot of homemade soup and a loaf of warm banana bread and give you hug and say all the highly inadequate things that don’t help but that we can’t help saying. I wish you strength, peace and courage for the grief journey ahead.

Now, of course, is not the time to recommend a book, but maybe one day in the future you’ll be ready to read “The Mourner’s Dance.” It’s a history of mourning, an exploration of how people respond to/grieve after death throughout history and across cultures. The author wrote it after the sudden death of her daughter’s fiance, after observing how diverse rituals and reactions were of all the people who mourned him. This is not a how-to book, except to encourage people to connect with those that will mourn in a similar way or allow you to mourn in the way that fits your beliefs and situation.
I am sorry for your loss. I wish you time and space to mourn in the way that you need.

And the really shitty thing is that hearing about someone you care for having to go through it brings all of your own pain right back to the surface.

You will persevere, because that’s what you do. But like Jackie said, do it in your own time and in your own way. Do your best to be gentle with yourself and reach out when you need something. It never really gets easier but you kind of get used to it, sort of. And as long as you remember him and keep those memories in your heart, he’ll live on forever through you.

I know exactly how you are feeling and exactly what you are going through, not that I can be of any help or magically take your pain away, I just lost my wife a bit less than 3 months ago, I can tell you this, wordpress is a great community of people all wanting to help and support you in anyway they can, use them, take the support, it helps, and Blog, about your loss and your journey, I write letters to my wife and post them, it’s a great help, I cry , I rage, I come unglued while writing them, I write them from my heart, it’s cathartic , it lets the pain and sorrow flow , it’s part of healing.
if you ever need to just talk, yell, rant, rage at someone, just fire off an email to me, I won’t judge or be hurt, we all heal differently, and each person who has lost a loved one is on their own personal journey, our paths may cross or even run parallel awhile, but we can never walk down each others paths, it’s a lonely journey , take the support and talk/write as much as you can.

Of course, no one will understand the way you do, what it’s like. It’s your heart, your grief. It’s painful in all sorts of ways.

Remember when you helped out a woman who lost the love of her life? (Or was that you?) Anyway, don’t give up. And there are some people here who you can talk to if need be. I came here late, so no memories with me. Okay, now I’m sad for myself too. This sucks.

Ours hearts can be broken into a million torn, anguished bleeding pieces, yet the world doesn’t stop for our sorrow or grief. I’m so sorry for your loss, no one feels grief in the same way, just know that those who touch our hearts live in them forever.

Sorry, wrong button. One of the worst things was that for me the world had stopped to turn. But when I woke up the next morning, the sun had risen, people went to work, as if nothing had happened. I could hardly bare this mundaneness.

[…] this week’s post about how her life has changed in so many positive ways. Sobering things up, Fish of Gold she lost her partner and lover last week when he passed away suddenly of a medical condition. […]

I’m so sorry for your loss, Fishy. This is awful news. Your shock is real and you are brave for going to work at all. Handle this any way you can. There’s no right way.

My dear wife Karen lost her previous husband, Kevin, in his 30s, and she still grieves him, especially on special days. When she wishes to recall the good times with stories, I listen. Kevin’s family has sort of taken me in, too, his younger brother and his grown daughter, who has her own husband and son now. It is a new family sharing their love almost 20 years after he’s passed. I hope somehow you can find a support system to lend you some comfort, down the line, when you are ready. Take care of yourself. If you’d like to reach out to Karen for an ear to sort out some of your feelings ever, send me an email, markbialczak@gmail.com.

When my friends young boy Daniel died I remember she panicked for a while as she said she couldn’t find him anywhere. It’s eighteen months later now and it’s no better but it is easier for her to function, if that makes sense. A woman who had also lost a child spoke to her a couple of months after Dan died and gave her the greatest consolution. She said, “You do heal a tiny bit most days. So little you do not notice, until some day in the future you look back and realise how far you have come”.
I wish you strength for these very difficult early days of grief. I still miss young Daniel every day. I no longer cry every day.
A friend wrote to me in those early days, “I hope the cold place that is your heart at the moment, will some day be warmed again by the memories of times spent together”

I found people just going about their business was hugely upsetting at first. I felt like I understood why in some cultures you don an arm band so that everyone knows you are grieving. I wanted to scream at people & stop them in their happy, self-absorbed tracks, and tell them that the world was NOT the way it was a week before. The fact that life just goes on the same as always is maybe the cruellest & most unbearable thing of all.